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Jeremy F. Miller is, to anyone who might look upon him, a normal, unremarkable man with a normal, unremarkable past. A glimpse at Jeremy, or really any number of glimpses, is sure to conjure images of a placid household, in quiet suburbs, in a town whose name is far too easily forgettable. His baggy collared shirt and wrinkled khakis, coupled with a receding hairline and a resting scowl of a face, are not features suggesting someone particularly noteworthy. Far more than his physical appearance, though, Jeremy simply has a way of holding himself- slumped, sagging, sinking- that alludes to a person who had resigned himself to his station in life.

When he meets new people and tells them he is a notary, he notes an unmistakable glaze that forms over their eyes. He has attributed this characteristic stupor to the job itself, when in fact it is the exhausted tone he takes when describing it. Such are Jeremy’s conversations. Such is the life of Jeremy.

Despite the humdrum and colorless present-day life of Jeremy F. Miller, his past was far, far more unusual and memorable. Truthfully, very few could match Jeremy’s extraordinary backstory (although we’ll get to some of them in due time), which bears little resemblance to his current condition. Even fewer could compare to his bizarre- and really, quite sad- transformation into this office-dwelling individual, tasked with mundanely officiating very mundane paperwork.

You see, until nine years ago, Jeremy was a Troll. Not a nasty cyberbully, in fact not a nasty human being at all, but a bridge dwelling, hairy, smelly Troll (with a...

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(For the sake of making this easier to read, I’ve formatted this as prose. In practice, this would be a script, but I don’t see any reason to dress it up in that format. I imagine...

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So here’s my basic idea regarding Shadow Caste. I’m dishing it out in bullet points, because I think it might be a little easier to digest. I also have a short pilot sample that...

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It is absolutely stifling outside! Just wretched! They should’ve made this an indoor event, Lord knows they have the resources. Even with all these graduates and their families,...

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(This came from an idea of Robo_J's he brought up a few weeks ago, and it’s been stewing in my mind ever since)

I was born in the gut of a factory in a haze of axle grease and...

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It's a murky maze of trees in every direction. VICTIM is on his knees. Turn to MURDERER; he's pointing a pistol at Victim's head.


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(This is a re-post, because I'm stupid)

Please don’t shit on me

I see that look you’re giving

And I don’t trust you for a hot second

Not a one

No, I don’t have any bread

To buy a...

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(Based on experiences in 3 different cities that all felt very similar)

It’s almost 5AM and the sky’s warming up

And birds are singing from telephone lines

Warbling voices ringing...

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